


The Miseducation of Jessica Hamby

by katekane



Category: True Blood (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Feminist Themes, Femslash, First Time, POV Alternating, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Hymen Is a Misogynist Myth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katekane/pseuds/katekane
Summary: Recently undead Jessica Hamby is in despair because, apparently, vampiric healing abilities mean she has to lose her virginity over and over again.Fortunately, due to 150 years of sexual experience and a feminist streak, Pamela knows better.





	The Miseducation of Jessica Hamby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maja/gifts).



**Jessica Hamby, present time:**

If only a year ago someone had told Jessica that she would one day find herself flat on her back, clawing at sheets, with another person’s head between her legs, then she would have laughed out loud. Or, Jessica corrects herself between gasps, she would probably have blushed furiously and made a hasty exit. Growing up in rural Louisiana, raised by devout Christian parents, had made her anything but a worldly teenager. Home schooling, rigorous praying routines, and hand-me-down knee-length skirts had been her life.

The length of Jessica’s current skirt is of no consequence, as it is hiked up to her navel. The experience is overwhelming and overriding any wider implications of what Jessica is doing. She is a heaving, sweating, and shuddering mess with no brain capacity left to ponder the fact that the mouth doing unspeakable things to her is _undeniably female_.

 

**Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, some hours earlier:**

The edge of Jessica’s long skirt had been raised more that a few inches when a doorman had spotted her in the grass outside Fangtasia earlier in the evening. When Pamela was summoned, what she found bore no resemblance to the drop dead dangerous vampire personas popularized by media and mimicked by Pamela herself: The pathetic teenage vampire was blowing her nose into what _might_ have been considered a fashionable lace border sometime in the 1950s.

Pamela’s first instinct had been to turn around and pretend the girl had never shown up. Her second instinct had been to impale her with the nearest pool table leg. In the end, Pamela had gone with her third and looked about to make sure no one was watching, then dragged the girl into her own private office. Admittedly, “Office” might seem incongruous with the angry red leather furniture and walls decorated with a variety of whips. But at least there was a door with a lock between this room and the crowded bar intended for people centuries older than the miserable redhead on Pamela’s divan.

Jessica was getting on Pamela’s nerves even before she managed to mutter anything more substantial than sobs or hiccups. Not just because Pamela ought to be manning other parts of the club, which made this visit terribly inconvenient. Mostly because, if pressed to pick an adjective to sum up Jessica, Pamela would have to go with “sweet”. In a former life, fewer decades ago than Pamela cared to admit, she would probably have been tempted to drain this girl out of her misery. If the girl had been mortal, that is. Due to recent circumstances and through no fault of her own Jessica was _not_. This, for some ridiculous reason, made Pamela feel the tiniest bit of sisterly solidarity towards her. Not that she was going to admit to it out loud.

“I don’t know _what_ it is about me that makes people think I want to hear their problems,” she had complained while simultaneously handing Jessica a scotch that would hopefully make the weeping stop. “Maybe I smile too much? Maybe I wear too much pink?” Pamela had narrowed her eyes as she took a seat on a chair across from the teenager. “Just _please remember_ I can rip your throat out if I need to.” She had not meant it as a serious threat, she just had to uphold her slightly sociopathic image, yet she regretted the words as soon as they were out. She told herself this was because Jessica responded with even more wailing, and Pamela did not want her to drip on the leather. Of course, Pamela’s furniture had been exposed to more potent bodily fluids than tears over the years.

It did not take long to put the hiccupped bits and pieces of Jessica’s current crisis together. You see, Pamela might be in charge of the most eclectic blend of a small town bar, kinky night club, and good ol’ brothel ever seen in the state of Louisiana. She might have sold girls as young as Jessica to men even before vampirism liberated Pamela from the burden of human expectations. She might be cold, literally as well as figuratively, and she certainly thinks little of mortals. But Pamela has also had nearly 150 years to learn the ins and outs of people’s behavior. And Jessica was as predictable as any teenager, alive or undead: It all revolved around (here Pamela had failed to suppress a bored sigh) _a boy_. And a _human_ boy at that.

For a moment Pamela had considered handing Jessica over to the telepath of Bon Temps. Sookie Stackhouse was disgustingly human, but everyone knew her as an ally sympathetic to vampires coming out of the coffin. Also, Pamela found Sookie obnoxious, which was more or less how she felt about the teenage vampire on her divan. The two would do a splendid job at being annoying together, Pamela had thought to herself! But then more half-sentences poured from Jessica, and Pamela had begun to realize that a mere mortal could not handle this teenager’s particular concern. And being young not just in human years, but also and especially in vampire years, Jessica most likely did not have much of a network.

So Pamela poured herself a much more generous scotch than the one she had treated Jessica to. Some level of inebriation was definitely necessary for this. Pamela was no one’s mother. Hell, she did not even consider herself anyone’s maker, because she never, ever wanted the mentoring and the responsibility that came with such a role. Yet here she was… _Softened by old age or some shit._ With an eye-roll, Pamela had downed her drink.

It turned out, Jessica was every bit as nauseatingly sweet as Pamela had suspected. She _wanted_ to be sweet. More precisely, she wanted to be a sweet girlfriend worthy of her dull boyfriend Hoyt’s affections. Really, if one looked past Jessica’s recently acquired undead status, she and Hoyt were a decent match. They were both young, even if only Jessica would continue to appear so forever. They were both shy and gullible. And they were both terribly inexperienced. Apparently, when the couple first got together, they had both been virgins, and therein lay the problem: For Hoyt this had changed after their first fumbling attempt at intercourse. For Jessica the situation was complicated. Blessed or cursed – have your pick – with superior vampiric healing abilities, Jessica’s body reset itself after each of their encounters. And so it seemed to Jessica that physically, if not emotionally, she was doomed to remain a virgin forever. Forced to go through the motions of a painful deflowering every single time she tried to be intimate with someone.

At this point in Jessica’s tale, Pamela had poured herself a second large scotch. This time to soothe an irritation not so much caused by Jessica as by the world they apparently still lived in. Pamela herself had grown up in a time where the options available to women were sparse. And she had always defied conventions, never fit in. Pamela had wanted to be a woman in ways simply not possible in the 1890s when her sexual appetite for the fairer sex had been considered, at best, pathological. Since then things had changed, not just because Pamela had been turned, but also because the tides of time had thankfully turned. Pamela had personally lived through first, second, and third wave feminism. She had been a resident of San Francisco. She had seen women, even the ridiculously fragile human kind, grow more aware and assertive in every area of life. But clearly the heritage of self-discovery sessions at womyn’s camp had never made it to Jessica’s tiny birth town: The girl had been _depressingly miseducated_.

Better late than never rings particularly true for someone with indefinite life expectancy _._ So Pamela decided to bestow a little feminist wisdom upon the unbearably clueless vampire novice. This proved easier said than done. At first, Pamela thought the problem was Jessica’s Christian morals. Even _hinting_ at sexual topics made the teenager blush beyond what ought to be possible for someone without a pulse. Eventually, however, Pamela discovered the obstacle was of a factual nature: Jessica was uninformed to a point where she did not even know the proper names and placements of her intimate parts. Since getting Jessica to squat over a mirror would undoubtedly require so much liquid courage the girl would be unable to keep her balance anyway, Pamela emptied the bottle herself while taking to pen and paper and anatomical drawings. The approach worked far better than expected. Jessica turned out to be more curious than prudish, so Pamela could in fact go over the general layout of a vulva without causing visible distress in the girl.

However, Pamela’s progress had drawn to a halt when she moved on to interior sexual organs.

”But there is supposed to be a hymen. Where is the hymen? I don’t understand,” the teenager repeated over and over and over again. And really, one could not blame her. In Jessica’s, albeit limited, experience sex was inseparable from the sharp pain resulting of something tearing inside. So Pamela had forced the exasperation out of her voice as she calmly explained to Jessica that, in effect, the girl had been lied to her entire life.

At this point Pamela had decided to sit next to Jessica on the divan. ”The Arabic word for ’hymen’ also means ’curtain’, and it’s a much better metaphor than, say, ’fleshy membrane’, ’wedding canopy’ or ’virginal eardrum’. Just like a curtain, the hymen can be drawn or pushed aside. It’s a skin fold, really. It doesn’t block the vagina, and neither penetration nor childbirth will take it away from you. We all still have ours, vampiric healing abilities or not.”

Jessica had fallen silent, clearly trying to reconcile this new knowledge with her own experience. In the end the girl shook her head and sighed. ”Then why have I been hurting every single time? I can feel that something is…” she searched for the right word and settled for ” _breaking_. Does that mean my body is malformed?” She had looked at Pamela with such earnestness, completely unaware of how ridiculous her worries sounded.

Pamela had surprised herself by placing a comforting hand on Jessica’s upper arm. ”I assure you, there is _nothing_ wrong or even unusual about your body, Jessica. You just need to listen to it is all.” At this point, Pamela’s thumb had taken to caressing Jessica’s bicep of its own volition.

”What do you mean?” Jessica wondered.

”You have to learn how to relax and enjoy sex. If you’re nervous, if you expect it to be unpleasant and painful, then you’ll tense up. That causes tears, though not the irreparable or inevitable kind,” Pamela assured her. She moved in closer to the girl. They were, after all, navigating an intimate topic.

”So it’s because I’m doing it wrong?”

The girl looked so wide-eyed, so open to _any suggestion_ at this point, but instead of finishing that particular thought Pamela had offered Jessica a smile, gentle and without fangs. ”I’m sure Hoyt shares the blame. If he is as uninformed as you were an hour ago,” she had squeezed Jessica’s shoulder – her hand had apparently climbed higher – to indicate that she was _not in any way_ trying to shame the girl, ”then he probably equals sex to humping and pumping in the missionary position.”

There was that blush again. This time, however Pamela found the inherent paradox endearing rather than irritating. Clearly, this undead girl was full of life. Such youthful exuberance should not go to waste. And the blush indicated that it did; that Pamela’s assumptions about Hoyt were spot-on. Somehow, over the past hour or so, the girl had grown on her and Pamela found herself wishing more for her.

”So… What should I ask Hoyt to do?” Jessica had wanted to know.

And Pamela had almost blurted: _Ask the hopeless human to get lost so you can find a more deserving lover_. But once again she halted a dangerous train of thoughts and settled for safer grounds: ”Ask him to do what makes _you_ feel good. Tell him what you like.” At Jessica’s frown, Pamela specified: ”You could tell him to pleasure you the way you pleasure yourself.”

Jessica’s frown had deepened and she had begun worrying her lower-lip with her teeth. A plump and rather sensual lip, Pamela for the first time allowed herself to notice. It drew her even closer, and so she had been mere inches from Jessica’s face when the teenager finally put words to the main problem: ”What if I’ve never pleasured myself?”

 

 

 **Jessica Hamby, right this minute:  
**

Jessica might be naïve, but she recognizes that Pamela is completely lacking maternal instinct. She also recognizes that Pamela might hang with hookers, but that she herself is no one’s hooker or at least hasn’t been for a very, very long time. This is important; because it means the way she is currently helping Jessica is not born from any sense of obligation. Pamela is acting of her own free volition, and there is definitely personal gain thrown into the mix. Because let’s be honest, even Jessica knows that she is a particularly fair member of the fairer sex, and seduction never gets old, not even after one and a half century. So it’s safe to assume this bit of private tutoring turns Pamela on every bit as much as it does Jessica.

And Jessica – also acting completely of her own free will – is very, _very_ turned on. She tries to keep her eyes open, to watch what Pamela is doing to her this very minute. Jessica is supposed to learn from the experience after all. But all she sees is her own pale thigh thrown across Pamela’s shoulder. Jessica is spread wide open, and in between her legs and across her lower stomach Pamela’s gorgeous blonde hair fans out. It covers Jessica, yet conceals nothing. The image makes her want to spread her legs even more, to make herself impossibly open so that she could swallow Pamela’s tongue right up. It is carefully mapping all the outer parts of Jessica that she only recently learned the names of. Jessica tries to be a diligent student. She thinks _labia_ when she feels a particularly long and wet swipe along swollen folds. She tells herself _clitoris_ when she feels Pamela’s lips sucking lightly on some protruding part of her. Until now, Jessica didn’t even know she had protruding parts down there. This is all very enlightening. Until Pamela looks up and catches Jessica staring. She smirks into Jessica’s vulva, eyes glinting with mirth and something else, something that darkens them, and Jessica finds she can no longer pay attention to detail. Powerful, electricity-like surges are beginning to shoot out from Pamela’s lips, tongue, and is that teeth? _It doesn’t matter_ , Jessica decides. By now everything is a bit of a blur, so she squeezes her eyes shut along with her hands. They have let go of the sheet and found Pamela’s hair instead, and they are rather insistent. Pamela seems to like having her hair pulled. She is now moaning loudly into the most intimate parts of Jessica, and the sound travels through the teenager. Before she registers what is happening, she is echoing Pamela’s moan with a guttural one of her own, and beneath Pamela’s mouth everything contracts.

It doesn’t hurt. It’s just really, really wonderful. Jessica doesn’t want this lesson to end. She wants so much more. At this point she is letting herself respond to everything Pamela is doing to her. She feels the effect internally when Pamela touches her on the outside, and so it really isn’t hard to imagine what Pamela _actually_ being inside of her would be like. It’s something Jessica realizes she needs now in a way she has never needed nor wanted penetration from Hoyt. She should probably vocalize this specific request, but all she manages to sputter is ”please”. Pamela is no telepath, but Jessica is apparently easy to read. Or perhaps Pamela is doing what she decides to do now, because it is what she, too, wants. She locks her gaze with Jessica’s, and there’s that particular glint again. This time it’s echoed by the glint of shiny fangs that can no longer be suppressed. ”I’m going to fuck you now,” Pamela declares.

And then she’s back to licking sensitive skin, only this time she adds fingers – Jessica cannot say for sure how many, but definitely more than one – and it’s a fit. Jessica’s body receives Pamela eagerly, makes room for her until she is knuckle-deep and drawing out wet, sloshing sounds.

It doesn’t hurt. Nothing is making Jessica feel like this has to stop. Nothing is breaking, except Jessica’s ideas of what sex should be like. Fortunately, not even vampiric healing abilities will restore those.

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike Jessica, I was neither home schooled nor raised by fundamentalists. I grew up in middle class suburbs with academic and open-minded parents. My dad is a doctor. My mom has at least some feminist books on her shelves. Also, we live in a country where premarital sex is widely accepted and male homosexuality (no one ever worried about the lesbians) was fully decriminalised as early as the 1930s.
> 
> In spite of this I, too, was miseducated when is comes to my own female anatomy. As a teenager I had nightmarish premonitions about sexual acitivity leading to blood baths in bed or, at the very least, something really painful and unpleasant. When the nightmare didn't come true, I thought for some time being gay somehow changed my experience. I was frighteningly old when I finally learned the anatomical truth about the hymen - and then I got really, really pissed off. Apparently, misogynist myths still roam at large. We really need to fight them. We need to tell each other new stories. 
> 
> Some valid info about the hymen: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/all-about-sex/201103/the-hymen-membrane-widely-misunderstood


End file.
